Smile
by Althaeabuddy
Summary: The Cold War is over, and Russia is alone.


Russia couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so lost. Everything had fallen apart around him so quickly, he hadn't even realized what was happening until it was too late.

Outside his window, a winter storm raged, snow and sleet battering the window panes of his large, empty home. He was grateful for the sound of the howling wind—otherwise, his house would be completely silent. The halls had once been filled with polite chatter and footsteps, but now it was just him, and he didn't even know what he was anymore.

Russia sighed, tilting his head back to drain the last bit of vodka from his bottle. He could almost hear Lithuania nervously asking him if he'd like another. Lithuania, who was so gentle and kind. Lithuania, who'd been the first to leave.

He knew it was his fault. He'd been cruel, caught up in such a struggle for power that he'd taken his anger out on his subordinates from time to time. He'd tried to be kind, but sometimes the Baltics made a mistake, and for that, they needed to be punished. That was what his bosses all told him, anyways. But somewhere, he'd crossed a line, and hurt them too badly. Even his sisters couldn't take living with him any longer.

He got up from his chair to fetch another bottle. He'd lost a lot of weight over the past few months as he hadn't eaten much. It made the cold even harder to bear. He'd always hated the cold.

He swayed slightly as he stood up. How many bottles had he had? There were several scattered around the floor, but most of those were older bottles he hadn't bothered to clean up. He didn't feel like doing much these days. It seemed better to just drink himself into a stupor and at least spend a few blissful hours unaware of the mess his life had become. He wished there was someone here, even a random stranger because at least then he could smile and pretend nothing was wrong until he believe it himself.

He reached into the cupboard where he kept his vodka, only to find it empty. He slammed a fist against it in frustration. How could this be? He though he had enough to last several days. But maybe days had passed, or he'd drunk more than he realized.

Russia slumped back to his chair, feeling even more lethargic than before. What was the point of it all, really? Just months ago he'd been a strong nation, living in a house full of people. How had it come to this.

Barely realizing what he was doing, he reached into his coat and pulled out the pistol he carried around with him at all times. It wasn't easy for nations to die, Russia knew that. He'd taken more than one bullet to the head on the battlefield, and several of his bosses had attempted to assassinate him. But maybe now, while he was weak and without much of a government, he'd be able to die.

It was a vain hope, and Russia knew it in the back of his drunken mind. But that didn't stop him from pressing the gun to his head. He wasn't afraid to die. He didn't even worry where he'd go. Hell, at least, would be warm.

Russia took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

The first thing he noticed when he awoke was the sharp pain in his skull. He was lying on an old sofa, wrapped in layers of blankets. He groaned, reaching one hand up to his head. His head was bandaged tightly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a figure moving around the house. He tilted his head slightly to look, and the movement sent pain shooting through his temple. He hissed in pain, and the figure turned towards him.

He knew he had to be dreaming. After all, Ukraine had left him. Everyone had left him. But when she walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, he realized she must really be here. It was too vivid to be a fantasy.

"Oh Brother, you gave me such a scare!" she cried. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were filled with concern. Russia just stared at her, his memory foggy. But his sister didn't stop talking.

"I was going to visit you, just to see how you were doing. But you wouldn't answer when I knocked, and Bella was so worried she broke the doorknob. Oh, I hope you don't mind that! We'll get it fixed. But we found you lying in a pool of blood!" Her expression changed, growing uncharacteristically angry. "Why did you do that? We were so worried! Bella almost had a panic attack. We thought you were dead!" She stopped, unable to continue, burying her face in her arms.

Russia frowned. Even now, after everyone had left, he'd still managed to hurt his sisters. But they'd been worried about him. Maybe they still cared about him. After all, Ukraine had still loved him, even though he'd hurt her so much.

"_Sestra! Sestra! Are you okay?" Russia wailed, tears streaming down his face. Ukraine didn't move. She was so light, her face sunken. He could feel her ribs through her clothing. "Please say something?"_

_He was angry. Angry at Stalin, who'd never told him about his sister, and at himself for not noticing her condition. How much food had been taken from her, so that she'd become this weak._

_Ukraine stirred slightly, opening her eyes a bit to see her brother. She smiled wearily at him, and he felt sick. Did she still care for him? After all this?_

"Why?" he asked, his voice raspy. "Why would you do this for me after I hurt you?"

Ukraine smiled sadly at him. "I love you, you know that. Maybe my people aren't so fond of yours at the moment, but I remember you when you were young. I know you're a good person, even if your attempts to be kinds are a bit misguided. Bella loves you too, and I know Lithuania cares as well."

Russia blinked, taking in what she'd said. "But you left…"

She frowned slightly. "I had to do what was best for my people. But that doesn't mean I don't like being with you."

He was about to answer when his younger sister came sprinting into the room. She glared at Ukraine for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me he was awake?" she demanded accusingly. Ukraine stammered a bit, but Belarus had already forgotten about her. She rushed over to Russia, wrapping her arms around him, and he felt another jolt of pain shoot through his head. Ukraine seemed to notice.

"Leave him alone, Bella. He needs rest."

Belarus scowled. "You just don't want us to be together. You're jealous." But she obeyed, to Russia's relief, and opted to stand beside him instead.

"See, Russia. We both love you. And nothing can ever change that." She smiled kindly, and for the first time in months, Russia smiled back.


End file.
